#saturdayscenes: 1/16/16

a bit of today’s writing:

Natasha put a hand against Lila’s cheek. Her skin was still warm and fevered, but certainly not dangerously so–nothing like the fevers she had held Clint through after infected wounds so many times. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, honey. Do you want to drink some ginger ale?”

Lila made a face. “I already drank so much,” she said, giving Natasha a dramatic look.

“It’ll help your stomach settle before bed,” Clint said, gentle but firm, and Natasha smiled. Dad Voice. “Come on, kiddo. Mom’ll want to see that glass empty when she comes up to kiss you goodnight.”

Lila heaved a world-weary sigh, but let Natasha hand her the glass of ginger ale. “You could drink some,” she suggested slyly.

Clint snorted. “Cheeky,” he said. “You get that from your Aunt Nat, you know. None of that sass came from me or your mom.”

“Mommy’s sassy,” Lila said, matter-of-fact. “She says you just don’t notice.”

Clint looked almost wounded. “Just for that,” he said, “no Auntie Nat story for bedtime.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “Auntie Nat story?” she echoed.

Lila smiled brightly at her. “Daddy tells stories about your adventures,” she said.

“Really,” she said dryly, looking at Clint. He blinked innocently back, just about batting his eyelashes at her, and she rolled her eyes. “I’d love to hear an Auntie Nat story.”

Clint hummed thoughtfully. “Hm,” he said, tapping his chin. “I don’t know…”

“Daddy,” Lila whined, and Clint laughed gently, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m just kidding, baby,” he said. “Finish your ginger ale and we’ll do a story.”

Obediently, Lila drained the rest of the cup, handing it back to Natasha and then snuggling back under the blankets. She took hold of Clint’s arm and wrapped it firmly around her shoulders, and his face fairly melted to soft affection. “Story,” she prompted, and Clint gave himself a bit of a shake.

“You got it,” he said. He glanced at Natasha, playfulness dancing in his eyes. “You staying, Auntie Nat?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this,” she said, shifting to sit cross-legged on the bed. Lila took a stuffed bear from the mountain of animals she’d arranged around herself and handed it to her, and Natasha accepted it gravely, setting it in her lap and turning it to face Clint. Lila nodded in satisfaction at the gesture, and Natasha couldn’t help smiling back, glancing at Clint. “Go on, Hawkeye.”

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